


From Mothman, With Love

by Katsudonace



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Blood, If You Need More Tags Let Me Know, Keith and Shiro are Siblings, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paranormal Investigators, Trans Female Pidge | Katie Holt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-11-30 07:29:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11458908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katsudonace/pseuds/Katsudonace
Summary: Lance is a biochemist for the Garrison Space Program, while Keith is a world-renowned paranormal investigator with a popular conspiracy theorist blog. On the side, Keith works as a bartender, and that’s how they meet. However, life is never easy, especially when aliens and Mothman are involved. The truth is out there, but is it worth the strain that it puts on the two of them?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Microsoft Word is my beta since I don't really know anyone in the fandom. ~~Also, this fic will be updated less frequently than my other one since I don't have a plan for it.~~
> 
> EDIT: This weekend, I actually had a huge burst of inspiration for the plot and have it planned in its entirety. It will now update once a week alongside my other story.

Entering the bar, Lance couldn’t take his deep blue eyes off his phone, not paying attention to much else around him as he growled irritably at it. He hadn’t been on Earth in six months, and the first thing that he was greeted with when he got back on solid ground after being stuck in the space station for so long was some conspiracy theorist trying to debunk the experiments that they were running during their orbit. While he was glad that his newsfeed updated him about all the articles from his last mission in space, Lance thought that it could use with a better filter than just anything that even slightly mentioned his project.

“Lance!” called out a voice, seeing Hunk waving him down out of the corner of his eye. He ran a hand through his short, dark brown hair, causing the ends to stick up slightly, then made his way over to Hunk, glad to see he already had some shots waiting for him at the tall table that he had grabbed for them. The bar wasn’t that crowded, but they’d gotten out of the facility late, so that was to be expected. Or it could be that the place was a bit of a dive with chipped wood and an old jukebox that looked like it had seen better days in the corner.

“To gravity, fresh food, and alcohol,” Lance said as he took one of the shots and knocked it back. They wouldn’t be going on another mission until Lance finished up with his current research project, so neither felt particularly guilty about drinking on a weekday.

“Yeah, man,” Hunk agreed, knocking back his own shot. “I hear you on that.” He clinked his empty shot glass against Lance’s before picking up another one. Just looking at them, Lance didn’t think anyone could tell that they worked for the Garrison Space Program. For one, they were dressed down, only wearing jeans and the shittiest t-shirts they had in their closets, Hunk’s said “I’m here because you broke something” while Lance’s declared “For Science!” in bold letters. Also, Hunk was a bit stout yet muscular while Lance was tall and lanky, looking as if a strong breeze could blow him over. On top of that, they both had dark skin, and Hunk had darker hair and eyes. For some reason, it surprised others that people of Cuban and Samoan descent could be in the space program.

They drank the rest of the shots rather quickly, so Lance made his way to the bar to order the next round. However, he got distracted when a girl happened to slide up at the same time as him. She glanced over at him, noticing him staring at her then gave him a shy smile. “Hey,” she said, giving Lance a small wave.

“Hey,” Lance said, in return, leaning his elbow against the bar while shooting a finger gun at her with his free hand. “The name’s Lance. And you know, I have to ask, are you bioluminescent? Because I swear, you light up this room with your glow.”

Lance gave her a wink, but she wrinkled her nose then moved to the other end of the bar away from him. A laugh caught his attention, and Lance turned his head to see that the bartender had approached. While the bartender sported a stupid, black-haired mullet with long bangs that fell into his gray eyes, the rest of him wasn’t that bad. He wore a tight black shirt that left little to the imagination with a red jacket over it that showed off his midriff. It hadn’t won Lance over exactly, but he had to admit that the bartender was easy on the eyes, at least.

“That has got to be worst pickup line that I’ve ever heard,” he said with this smirk that made Lance tempted to hit him. He didn’t, though, since he didn’t think that Hunk would appreciate them getting kicked out of another bar. It was probably why Allura didn’t go drinking with them any longer. “Have any of those ever worked for you?”

“It’s statistics,” Lance said smugly, while his eyes roamed over the nearly empty bar so he could take in the other patrons. “If I say it to enough people then one of them is going to find it cute. The theory of probability is backed by years of research. You can’t deny science.”

The bartender snorted and rolled his eyes. “I don’t think that’s how it works.” Still, Lance couldn’t deny that he saw a flicker of interest in his eyes. “I really doubt there is anyone in this universe that would work on.”

“I whole-heartedly disagree.” Pointing down towards a girl at the jukebox, Lance said, “You make me the best drink that you have here then I’ll lay on my best line. If she likes it then the rest of the drinks are on the house.”

“And if she doesn’t?” the bartender asked. Still, he was pulling out a glass and beginning to mix drinks. Lance didn’t recognize some of the ones that he was pulling out, but there were a lot of syrups, so it was most likely sweet.

“There’s no ‘if she doesn’t’. This is going to be the one. There will be no other pickup lines after this since I have a feeling that luck is on my side.” Lance smirked at the bartender. “I’ll invite you to our wedding.”

Lance paid for the drink, and the bartender slid it over to him. He took it confidently then approached her. Handing her the drink, Lance introduced himself. She took it happily, giving him a look up and down with a look of appraisal. Not able to help himself, Lance threw a grin at the bartender before he leaned in and prepared to make his move.

“Girl, you know, you remind me of a big, burning ball of hydrogen gas, because,” Lance winked at her and shot her with his patented finger guns, “to me, you look exactly like a star.” While the girl stared at him with a suspicious look on her face, the bartender laughed again. He felt annoyed, shooting the other man a glare, before he tried to ease back into the mood. “I know these things because I’m an astronaut. I’ve been to space.”

The girl blinked at him, and Lance had zero warning before the fruity drink he brought her was splashed in his face. He watched her storm off to her friend who was waiting down by the bar. Snippets of their conversation carried over as she complained loudly about fake occupations. It made Lance sigh as he returned to the bar, ignoring the look of the amused bartender.

“Guess you should cancel the caterer for that wedding,” the bartender said smugly. He held a towel out to Lance with a small chuckle, which made Lance’s urge to punch him rise again. “Though, I think if you want to pick up girls, you should come up with a better fake occupation than astronaut. People aren’t exactly going to believe that.”

“Well,” Lance began, pausing to look at the other’s nametag, which was half hidden by his jacket, “Keith, I’ll have you know that the occupation isn’t faked. I’m a real astronaut, who has been to actual space.” He ripped the towel out of Keith’s hand so that he could use it to scrub at his shirt. “I just got back from the orbital space station. There were a bunch of articles online.”

Keith raised an eyebrow, leaning a little bit more over the bar. “Oh, I think I heard about that, actually.” He rested his elbow against the wood and placed a hand on his cheek so he could look over Lance more thoroughly. “So, you’re an astrophysicist?”

Lance laughed and shook his head. “No, I suck at physics. I’m actually a biochemist since I’m all about making chemistry and studying human anatomy.” He gave Keith a wink, which made a faint bit of color appear on Keith’s pale cheeks. “How was that? Any better?”

“Not even a little bit,” he said, despite the slight smile on his face. “Have you ever tried just being yourself? I mean, you’re a biochemist with the Garrison. That’s more impressive than some cheesy pickup line any day.”

It was Lance’s turn to blush, and he looked slightly to the side in embarrassment. “Well, to be honest? I’ve never been that great at talking to girls, or even guys. I get all nervous then I try to cover that up by making a joke. Of course, I always say the wrong thing when I joke...”

“You’re talking to me just fine, though.” Keith laughed, but it was different than the other times, and calmed Lance slightly. “Why don’t you practice on me? Just tell me a bit about yourself. Like, what exactly does a biochemist do when they’re out in space.”

“Oh, um...” Lance looked down at his fingers, forgetting for a moment what he did while up there. “I take different samples from astronauts in space and then test them to see what affects space have on the chemical and biological make-up of the human body. I just got off a project and am doing the follow-up analysis now.”

Keith nodded, an impressed gaze on his face. He seemed oddly curious about the subject. Part of Lance felt guilty for remaining with Keith for so long, but a quick glance at Hunk, showed that he had his support, as Hunk quickly flashed him a leer and a double thumbs-up. Lance choked, and it almost made him miss Keith’s next question, “Then you’re a doctor?”

Lance brought his attention back to Keith and tried not to wince, remembering how he had to explain to some of his relatives that being a researcher wasn’t less than being a doctor. “Yes, and no. I do have a Doctorates, but I’m not a doctor like you’re thinking. I could have been, though. But, I kind of fell in love with the lab research, so instead of going into medical school, I got my master’s and did some internships. Now, here I am. Garrison certified.”

While Lance expected some remark from him, like asking him how much he made or how it had to be lonely working in a lab, Keith didn’t, only seemed to nod his head approvingly again. “That’s amazing. I’m kind of a researcher myself. I even teach a few classes at the local college.”

“Oh?” Lance perked up in surprise. “I didn’t really expect that.” Keith raised an eyebrow, which made Lance clear his throat nervously. “Not that bartenders can’t be smart or anything. Just I guess I didn’t expect a college professor to have a part-time job like this. You’ve got to be the cool professor that everyone calls by their first name.”

“I even own a motorcycle.” Keith smirked at him, which made Lance’s cheeks feel hot suddenly. He then grabbed a pen and a napkin, scribbling something down. “I’ve got to get back to work, though. I figured that maybe we could continue this conversation over dinner?”

Keith held out the napkin to him. Lance took it gingerly, a shocked look on his face since this had honestly never happened to him before now. He stared at Keith, who turned his back on him so that he could move down the bar, towards some guys who had just entered. The rest of the night was a bit of a blur. Maybe because Hunk decided to order a few more rounds of drinks to celebrate, but mostly, Lance thought it was because he finally had a date, and a cute one, too. Part of Lance thought that there had to be something wrong with Keith to agree to go on one with him, but he shoved that aside, wanting to live in the euphoria bit longer.

* * *

The lecture hall was silent as Keith stood in front of his class, telling them about their latest assignment. It wasn’t that spacious, maybe about fifty seats, if that, so he could clearly see a few people packing up. The paper details were always posted online, though, meaning he didn’t make a big deal about it. Keith knew some of the other professors cared, but he wasn’t that old that he forgot what it was like to have to make it to a class that happened to be across campus.

“And listen, I know this class is an elective to round out your GPA, but that doesn’t mean you can just write out whatever you want and hit submit,” Keith told them. “I want your cryptid papers to be well-sited with at least five sources and none of them from Wikipedia. Also, don’t just go to Wikipedia then copy down their sources. I’ll know.” He watched as a few people rose to their feet. “It’s due in two weeks,” he called after them. “See you again on Tuesday!”

Keith sighed, running a hand through his hair before he began to pack up his things, as well. He turned his phone back on and unlocked it. A small smile lit up his face as he saw that there were several text messages from Lance waiting for him. He skimmed through them as he packed up his papers and materials, chuckling a bit to himself as Lance described to him what some of the interns at the lab did. Keith didn’t get it since there was a lot of technical jargon about misread markers and uncultured cultures, but to Lance, it was hilarious.

“So,” a familiar voice said, and Keith looked up to see Pidge standing there. She had a knowing look on her face, which only made Keith blush as he tried to quickly stuff his phone into his leather satchel before she could read it. “What’s his name?”

“Lance,” Keith answered, shouldering his satchel. He fell in step with her as he exited out of the lecture hall, making certain to keep to the side so the next herd of students could barrel in after them. “He’s a complete asshole. Like, you should have heard some of the pickup lines that he was saying to the girls at the bar.”

Pidge grinned wider. “Yet somehow, he ended up leaving with your number.” She pulled on the straps of her backpack, as if implying something. Keith looked down at her, glad that she hadn’t grown taller than him, because he’d gotten used to towering over her. Her skin was still so pale, but he doubted she’d like to hear it from him that she needed more sun. She’d let her light brown hair become longer again, and she wore her contacts, which always made her amber eyes look a bit softer. It was a relief that she was feeling comfortable here, and he wondered if she’d switch out her baggy jeans for dresses again. There was no rush, but it wasn’t like this was like her high school where they cared about that kind of stuff. He really felt the campus was quite liberal, if his classes were anything to go by.

“He was an asshole in a cute way,” Keith said, again unable to fight the blush that was forming on his cheeks. “Plus, he works for the Garrison. It wasn’t even a line. I looked it up after he left the bar. He legitimately goes into space to do experiments for the Garrison.”

As the two spoke, they made their way through the Behavioral Sciences Building. The name sounded impressive, but it was just a large, plain looking building that was outdated and unkempt and a place where the university threw the classes that didn’t fall under one of the major colleges that they hosted. Not that Keith minded, though. He was glad that he was given some classes, at least, even if his office was probably the worst they had to offer. They weren’t even haunted, which had thoroughly disappointed him.

“I thought you hated that place. You’re the one always claiming they’re the devil.” Pidge stuck her hands in her pocket, side-eyeing Keith slightly. “I mean, didn’t you just publish an article on your blog, with sources and everything, about how the whole mission was a cover-up for alien contact and that the Garrison was just lying to everyone?”

Keith opened the door for Pidge when they reached the door that exited out into the main campus, so that they could begin to walk down the sidewalk towards the lecture halls. “Just because they’re covering up aliens doesn’t mean they’re all bad.” He shrugged his shoulders, turning his head so he could avoid the knowing look that she was giving him. “They could be lying to Lance or gas lighting him to keep him in the dark.”

Pidge let out a low whistle. “You’re a real piece of work, Keith. I can’t believe he’s fine with your theories.” Keith remained silent and shifted uncomfortably while Pidge smacked a hand to her forehead. “You didn’t tell him. I can’t believe you didn’t tell him.”

“It didn’t come up.” Keith continued to avoid Pidge, instead he turned his gaze to the campus, looking over to the quad in the distance where some students had gathered, forming a small circle to watch some idiots fail at skateboarding tricks. “It will, eventually. Just do me a favor first, all right?”

“It better not be to hack into the Pentagon.” She sighed, sounding very put upon. “They won’t stop sending me job offers. I mean, if I wanted to work for fascists, I’d just take a job offer from Russia. I’m pretty sure they pay better.”

“No, it’s not. And sorry about that.” He glanced at her sheepishly. “Actually, I was hoping you could maybe talk Matt into taking Shiro out for a few hours. Lance wanted to pick me up and do the proper date thing, and I said yes before I remembered that I live with _him_.”

“Shiro’s not that bad, though maybe that’s because he’s your brother, not mine.” Pidge stopped, having reached the lecture hall for her next class finally. “But, I’ll see what I can do. Not going to make any promises since he loves to annoy me, and I’m not going to trade my ice cream stash for you, not again.”

Keith snorted. “Being annoying older brothers is probably what made them become friends in the first place.” Despite his complaining, he really was happy for Shiro, though, and he liked having Pidge as a friend because of it. “Anyway, just try. I’ll owe you big time if you can pull this off.”

Pidge gave Keith a thumbs-up before the two of them said their good-byes and Keith walked away. He took his phone out as soon as he was certain that Pidge couldn’t see him any longer to begin typing out a reply as best as he could to Lance. The difference in field expertise was a bit of a hindrance, but the energy that Lance put for in each text made up for the fact that neither of them had any idea of what the other was talking about half the time.

Keith continued to make his way across campus to the tall building that held the offices. His office hours would be starting soon, not that anyone showed up, but he wanted to be available on the off chance that they did. He entered the building, which was just a cement block inside and out then made his way to the elevator. With a sigh, he pressed the down button, hating that his office was in the basement since it was the least maintained part of the building and smelled like rotting cheese.

The elevator beeped, and Keith made his way in, taking the short ride down. The doors opened to the familiar flickering lights of the hallway. Keith really had been more surprised than anyone that it wasn’t haunted down here. His office was at the end of the hall, and he entered the shoebox-sized room, flicking on the light switch in the process so as not to accidentally into his office chair again. A white, Styrofoam box wrapped tightly in packing tape sat waiting for him on his desk, looking at home among his students’ papers.

Sitting down in his office chair, Keith inspected the box, but there was nothing on it except a single note taped to it with the word “Mothman” written in sloppy cursive. Keith reached into his bag, taking out the purple dagger with the lightning gem on the hilt, the only thing he had to remind him of his mother. Even if Shiro’s mom had been nice to the bastard son of her husband, it wasn’t the same as trying to remember his own.

Keith pushed the tip forward, about to slice through the tape when his phone buzzed. He set the knife aside and checked his messages, seeing that it was Lance declaring that he had a break and could talk for a bit to smooth out the details of their date that night. While the contents of the box tempted Keith, he knew it was important to get everything worked before their big date. For some reason, he had a good feeling about Lance, and he didn’t want to ruin it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone interested, Lance's project was inspired by a real life NASA mission, which you can read about [here](https://www.nasa.gov/mission_pages/station/research/experiments/1008.html) and [here](https://www.nasa.gov/content/nutritional-biochemistry). One of the links contains a video. It's cool, but shows them taking blood samples, so if you're squeamish to needles or blood then keep that in mind.
> 
> Unused lines: "Baby, do you exist in a vacuum? Because you take my breath away." "Hey, you want to play space ship and cosmic dust then let me pierce your vessel's exhaust ports?"
> 
> [Make sure to visit my at my tumblr!](https://katsudonace.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Microsoft Word is my beta and master. So, like I said in my other edit, I was crazy inspired last weekend and planned this fic out. It was supposed to be slice of life, but apparently I can’t do slice of life to save my life. There’s now a plot with heavy sci-fi elements, so enjoy???

A half hour early, Lance sat in his car, drumming on the steering wheel nervously as he camped out in Keith’s driveway, in his best suit and tie, which didn’t even have a single cartoon character on it, he might add. He knew it was a mistake to leave an hour early when Keith didn’t live that far from him, but nerves and his imagination made him picture traffic worse than the reality of it. That’s how he ended up here in front of the quaint suburban home. It looked like it had been ripped from some home and garden show with a perfectly mowed lawn with not a brown patch in sight. He could see lace curtains in the windows and the blue door had an actual wreath hanging from it from what Lance could see from where he was sitting. It didn’t seem like Keith, but then again, there were a lot of things about Keith that he didn’t know.

Lance looked at the clock on his car again, now he was only twenty-five minutes early to their date. He leaned back and hit his head back on the gray leather seat of his car, closing his eyes as he tried to calm down. It wasn’t until heard tapping on the glass of his window that he opened them again, and he let out at a startled scream when he saw a pale-skinned man in a black tank staring at him. He was tall and muscular with a large scar across his nose. His black hair had an undercut with a tuft of white hair that Lance couldn’t tell if it was natural or dyed. He had a concerned look in his gray eyes that seemed familiar, but Lance couldn’t place where he’d seen them before.

“This is a private residence,” the man said, a lot more gently than Lance would if he found a stranger out in his driveway. The confused look in his eyes caused Lance’s stomach drop a little, making him nervous that Keith gave him the wrong address. “You can’t park here.”

Lance rolled down his window. “Oh, I’m sorry. My date told me he lives here.” He grabbed his phone from the cup holder and held it out to the other guy to show him the address. “Would you happen to know where Keith Shirogane lives? Is he your neighbor?”

The man stared blankly from Lance to his phone, looking as if Lance had suddenly grown a second head. “You’re here for Keith?” he said, not sounding as if he believed him. “Like, you’re here to go on a date with Keith? You actually want to date Keith?”

“Uh, yeah?” Lance shifted awkwardly. It sounded as if there was something wrong with this guy, which seemed to be just Lance’s luck. Hot bartenders didn’t give out their numbers to Lance. That wasn’t how the universe worked. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no, I guess, I’m just-” He rubbed at the back of his neck, drawing attention to the fact that he had a metal arm. It seemed to work better than many of the prosthetics that he’d seen in the labs due to the fact that he had full movement in his fingers. “I’m going to go with surprised. That’s the nicest word for it, I think.” He held out his other hand for Lance to take. “I’m Takashi, but everyone calls me Shiro. I’m Keith’s older brother. We live together, sort of.”

“I’m Lance, Lance McClain.” He took Shiro’s hand to give it a shake. “He didn’t mention that he had a brother, though to be fair, we’ve only been talking for a few days, mostly about our date plans.” His gaze then shifted past Shiro towards the house. “What do you mean sort of, though?”

Shiro followed Lance’s gaze then moved towards the side of the house to stare at the large wooden fence that blocked out the backyard. When Shiro looked back at him, he had a forced smile on his face. “It’s hard to explain,” Shiro said. “Why don’t you come inside?”

“Sure, just let me get something from my trunk.” As Lance spoke, Shiro withdrew from the side of his car. Lance felt awkward as he turned off his car then slide out the door. He moved to the trunk of his car, feeling his cheeks grow hot as he grabbed the dozen roses and box of chocolates. After promising a traditional date, Lance thought that it would be nice, now he just found it embarrassing, especially given the wide-eyed expression Shiro was giving him.

Lance walked with Shiro to the front door and into the quaint home. Shiro then directed Lance to take off his shoes, which he did. It was nicely decorated and neat in a country style with floral patterns on the couches and armchairs with oak wood furniture from the bookshelves to the hope chest in the corner, looking like a grandmother lived here instead of two grown men. There were, also, family photos in novelty frames everywhere. He could tell that they were of Keith and Shiro, but they looked too hot to be normal, which made Lance suspicious that they were just the family that came with the frame come to life.

“Can I get you anything?” Shiro asked as he ventured into a different room. Lance followed him into the dining room, which had the same solid oak furniture as the living room along with a glass door that led into the backyard. He grabbed a shirt hanging off the back of one of the chairs and pulled it on over his tank. “Keith should be out from the shed in a minute.”

“Out from the shed?” Lance repeated in confusion. He looked out the glass door to the backyard. Sitting there was a large tool shed with aluminum siding, taking up most of the yard. An eerie glow emanated through the cracks in the door. If Lance was in a horror movie, he’d bet money that was where the killer lived.

“Yeah, that’s where Keith works.” Shiro tilted his head to the side, inspecting him curiously. Lance was tempted to reach a hand up to check for that second head again. “So, how’d you two meet? If I know Keith, it’s got to be some story.”

While Lance was still confused about Keith’s shed, he turned his attention to Shiro with a smile. “Yeah, it is. We met at Keith’s bartender job. I said some amazing pickup lines, and Keith just couldn’t help but fall for my charm. He gave me his phone number, and we’ve been texting back and forth ever since.”

Shiro frowned, eyes narrowing in disbelief, but if he was going to say anything, he didn’t get the chance as a horn sounded from outside. “That’s my friend,” he said, checking his pockets. “I have to go. Wish I could do this in person, but baby pictures are in the hope chest, help yourself to anything in the fridge, and Keith’s curfew is eleven, if stays up past midnight, tell him I’m cutting off his wireless. He’ll know that I mean it.”

Another honk sounded, and Shiro rolled his eyes. He bid Lance farewell before he rushed towards the front door. While looking through the baby pictures was tempting, Lance found himself more curious about the large shed in the back where Keith supposedly worked. For some reason, the idea of Keith working in it set off alarm bells in Lance’s mind, even though he knew it was perfectly normal, especially since Keith had told him that he owned a motorcycle.

So, once Shiro was gone, Lance padded to the glass door and opened it to go out to the back. He was glad that he decided to wear black socks as he walked through the grass, noticing a nice garden off to the side that was hidden from view behind the house. Lance wondered if it was Keith or Shiro who tended to it. He was leaning more towards Shiro, since he didn’t see cool Professor Keith having time for something like that.

Lance turned his attention back to the shed. He approached it cautiously, the odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. It reminded him of what he felt when he watched the protagonist of a horror movie. He’d always yelled at them for going in when everything was telling them not to, but he couldn’t resist the pull as he reached forward, turning the knob so that he could push the door.

The door swung open with an ominous creek, and Lance stared into the small shed, not certain what he was looking at exactly. The first sight he took in was the giant cork-board that took up the entire back wall of the shed. There were different notes and pictures attached to it all connected by strings of different colors. A cot with itchy looking wool sheets was shoved against the wall near a clear glass mini-fridge like the ones they had in Lance’s lab with samples of multiple colors inside it. Keith was at his computer, back to him with a set of black, noise-cancelling headphones as he typed.

While Lance knew he shouldn’t pry, he couldn’t stop himself from looking over his shoulder. He recognized the site instantly. It was the one that had been claiming that his experiment was a fake. Lance was about to call him out for believing that website when he noticed that he wasn’t reading it. Keith was _editing_ it. He had been the one who had wrote all that garbage about aliens. Lance didn’t know why it bothered him so much since it was basically a trash site, but it created an angry gnaw in his stomach that he couldn’t let go.

“Hey!” Lance huffed, hitting Keith’s arm with the box of chocolates. A small dent appeared in the side of the box, but Lance didn’t care as he hit Keith harder, trying to get his attention. “Turn around, mullet head! We need to talk!”

“Takashi,” Keith grumbled as he reached up and pulled down his headphones. “I thought you had a-” He cut himself off as he turned around, eyes widening as he came face to face with Lance. “How did you get in here?”

“Shiro let me in.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Lance glared at Keith, who straightened under his gaze as if someone had slid a wire down his back. “And I really would like an explanation as to why you’re sitting there, editing that bullshit blog.”

Keith bristled. “It’s not bullshit! I created it from the ground up to get the truth out there. You go out into space, and you still believe the lies that the Garrison tells you. Like, do you really believe that we need to go up there so many times for blood samples? I mean, your research has been going on for years longer than needed, don’t you think?”

“You- You- You asshole!” Lance shouted, tears stinging the corner of his eyes. He threw the roses and Keith, which hit him squarely in the face. Lance held onto the chocolates. It’d be a cold day in Hell before he wasted chocolates like that. “At least now I know the truth! What you really think about me! So, was this all some big ploy to get me here to try to debunk my research? Do you even work as a bartender?”

Tossing the roses aside, Keith rose to his feet in anger. “That’s extremely convoluted! Bartending was my first job before my website took off. It’s a good way to make extra money for equipment the school won’t pay for. Then, also, why would I go through so much trouble for a jerk like you? You’ve got to be pretty self-centered-”

Lance shoved Keith, hard, sending him tumbling back into the chair. The chair rolled back, knocking into the desk, which toppled the monitor over. “We’re finished! I’m glad I learned everything before our date! You’re a real piece of work!”

Turning on his heel, Lance began to storm out the door. He heard Keith shout at him, “Same could be said about you!” but Lance didn’t stop. His feet carried him out the shed and through the yard, back to the driveway where his car was parked. Lance threw the chocolates into the passenger seat then got in the car himself. He slammed his fist against the steering wheel a few times, because of course this was his luck. Hot bartenders didn’t have interest him. He should have known the moment Keith gave him his number. Defeated, Lance turned on his car and drove away, already making plans in his head to call Hunk and Allura so they could binge on ice cream and bad movies when he got home.

* * *

When the door opened, Keith didn’t make a move to get off the couch, just continued to sulk on it, head against the coffee table while his feet took its place on the headrest. The roses rested against his chest, broken and sagging, while he replayed what happened between him and Lance. It was like playing the scene of a train wreck in his head. He couldn’t look away as each moment went horribly wrong from Lance ripping the headphones off him to him shouting at Lance as he stormed out of the shed. Keith supposed he was lucky that Lance had invested in thorn-less roses, but that was only a small relief compared to how horrible everything went.

Keith hear Shiro padding closer, but he didn’t get up, more than a little upset with him, since if he hadn’t let Lance in then this whole mess wouldn’t have happened. “Why aren’t you in your shed?” Shiro asked, his head suddenly coming into Keith’s field of vision.

“Because the shed is for winners,” Keith answered, tilting his head to the side so that he didn’t have to face Shiro. While he could get up and move to his own room, that would involve leaving the couch. “I’m not a winner. In fact, I’m the opposite of a winner. I’m a loser. A loser of hot astronauts.”

“Ouch.” The couch dipped as Shiro sat next to Keith, and suddenly, the sight of Shiro’s pant-leg greeted him. Keith turned his head the other way and curled so he was resting more on the couch than the table, not wanting to face his brother right now. “I’m guessing it’s something you’re blaming me for?”

“You let him inside the house, and he came back to the shed. He saw all my research.” Keith let out a huff a frustration as he began to fiddle with the rose petals. “You know normal people can’t handle what I do. Even some of my colleagues think I’m a crackpot with my theories. Remember when they snubbed me from that convention? Do you remember, Takashi? Because I do.”

“One, I thought he knew, since he said you two were going on a date.” Shiro sounded upset, and it made Keith bury himself further into the fabric of the seat cushion so as not to face him. “Then two, you could have talked with me about this instead of setting up a sudden night out with Matt. We’re not kids anymore. I might like to tease you, but if you talk to me, you know I’ll listen.”

“I know,” he mumbled. “Lance- I really didn’t want him to find out, and I think deep down, I told myself that you’d embarrass me so that I wouldn’t have to have the talk about how I shouldn’t hide myself, and if he can’t deal with my blah then we shouldn’t blah blah.”

“Hey! Don’t ‘blah’ me!” The indignation in Shiro’s voice made Keith snort, but the sound got lost in the couch’s fabric. “And it’s the truth. To outsiders, your work might seem a little unique, but what you do is important, and on top of that, you enjoy your work, which not a lot of people get to say. If Lance can’t-” Shiro cut himself off abruptly. “Shit, you’re right. When did I become Mom?”

Rolling onto his side, Keith decided it was time to finally face Shiro. “You’ve always been Mom. You just didn’t know it because Mom was always around to out mom you. Now that she’s not here, you have no competition.”

Shiro reached forward and began to tickle Keith’s side. While Keith tried to remain stoic, the urge to laugh was too high, and soon, he found himself giggling. His legs kicked, trying to get away from Shiro’s torture, but all it did was make him drop the roses onto the floor, scattering petals everywhere as more buds broke.

“Stop it!” Keith demanded, though it was hard because of the gasping. “Come on! Stop!” He wiggled himself enough so that he was facing Shiro, digging his bare feet into his brother’s cheek as he tried to push him away. “I’m an adult! You aren’t allowed to do this any longer!”

“I’m your brother. It doesn’t matter how old you get. I can always torture if I want.” However, Shiro did stop, letting Keith have some peace. He pushed Keith’s foot off his face then pulled back so that he could place his hands behind his head. “And really, in all seriousness, there’s nothing wrong with your theories.” Shiro’s gaze dropped down to his metal arm with a frown. “We both know that they hold merit, even if I do still find you living in the shed weird.”

Readjusting himself so that he was sitting the right way on the couch, Keith let out a small sigh. “Thanks, Takashi, and living in the shed isn't weird. It's safe.” He rested a hand on his stomach, fingers drumming against it. “Though, well, one of my theories kind of attempted to discredit his work. It’s kind of why I didn’t tell him what I did since I wrote an article about him without knowing about it.”

“Yeah, I can see why he would be upset.” Shiro mimicked Keith’s movements, chewing on his cheek as he flexed his metal fingers. “I’ve never exactly been in that situation before, but if you think the article was sound now that you met him then I say try to get him to see reason. If you don’t, then apologize. It’s that simple.”

“It’s really not.” Even though, the way Shiro broke it down made it seem like it was. He hated how easy it was for Shiro to solve problems, sometimes, and how much Keith depended on him to do so. “But I’ll give it a try. Maybe if I can think of an excuse for it, I’ll give him a call.”

“Sometimes, trying is enough.” Shiro patted Keith’s knee, ignoring the groan that Keith released at his advice. “I’m guessing since you’re here moping on the couch, you didn’t have dinner. Did you want me to make you something?”

Keith wrinkled his nose as he recalled the last time Shiro attempted to ‘cook’ something. Matt still couldn’t look at raviolis without turning a bit green. “Are you trying to kill me, Takashi? I think I’d eat the samples I have in the shed before I let you cook for me.”

“You burn just a handful of things and give one person food poisoning then suddenly you’re a bad cook,” Shiro grumbled. “But I more meant sticking some leftovers into the microwave, but have it your way. I’m going to head to bed. It’s a bit late, and I have work in the morning.”

The two of them said goodnight then Shiro rose to his feet, walking back towards the bedrooms of the one-story home. Keith stood, too, but first, he picked up the rose petals off the floor. He brought them into the kitchen, throwing them and the bouquet into the trash since they were ruined beyond salvation. After that, he padded to the refrigerator, opening it and leaning in to check its contents.

Since Keith did all the cooking, he knew exactly what was in each box without having to open them. He was trying to decide what to take out when the white box with the odd label caught his eye again. Since he had the date with Lance, he’d forgotten that he’d put it in here for safe keeping while he made lunch. Keith was suddenly glad that he’d asked Matt to take Shiro out, since he could just imagine Shiro’s scolding after finding out one of Keith’s samples had found its way into the fridge again.

Keith grabbed it then a kitchen knife and leaned against the oak cabinets as he began to cut away at the tape encasing the box. He knew what Shiro would say if he saw him doing this, would tell him to go sit at the dinner table for safety, but Shiro wasn’t here, even if he was a constant nagging in the back of his head. Once the lid was free, he threw it haphazardly onto the onyx-colored linoleum counter-top behind him.

As he’d expected, there were sample vials packed in there with dry ice to keep it cool. He picked up one of the vials, inspecting the red-colored liquid, knowing offhand that it had to be blood. Keith had no idea why people kept sending these to him when he didn’t have a background in biology, but they still did. It’d gotten to the point where Keith just accepted them, sending them off to his own lab tech with the ones he had collected.

While Keith wondered if he could get afford to get it shipped express, he remembered someone close by who had a background in it. Maybe it was a long shot, but he set the box aside and fished out his phone from the pocket of his jeans then hit Lance’s number to call him. He didn’t know if Lance would pick up, but at least he could say that he tried.

The phone rang once then twice. Then a third and a fourth. Keith was almost certain that it was going to go to voicemail or disconnect when it stopped suddenly, replaced by incoherent groaning. “Lance?” Keith asked, “hey, Lance is that you? Because I have something really important that I want to talk with you about.”

“Keith,” Lance huffed out, voice deeper and gravelly because of sleep deprivation. “It’s four in the fucking morning.” Keith looked at the time on the kitchen stove and winced guiltily despite Lance not being able to see him. “Unless aliens are attacking, which they would have to exist for them to be, then I can’t find it in my heart to care. I’m hanging up now.”

“No! Lance, please! Wait! Please this is life or death!” Keith hated how desperate he sounded and wished he could just tell Lance the truth, that he’d just wanted to call him to hear his voice, only Keith was never that honest. “Please!”

The begging seemed to be enough to give Lance pause, since he didn’t hang up like he said he would. Minutes stretched by before a heavy, put-upon sigh sounded from Lance on the other end. “Fine. What do you want?”

“I could really use your degree in Biochemistry right now.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth, either, and Keith felt like a coward for hiding his reasons like this. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to tell Lance what he really wanted was another chance. “I got my hands on some blood samples, but well- I don’t know. Do you think you could look at them for me?”

“You do realize what time it is, right?” Lance asked, but he didn’t wait for Keith to answer as he continued to speak. “The lab won’t be open for another five hours. Besides, I don’t think I can use the equipment for personal use, not without getting fired first. Don’t you have someone else who can look at them for you?”

“Yeah, I do.” Keith paused, struggling for an answer to Lance’s question, since it poked a huge hole in his excuse. “It’s just I’d have to mail all these samples to them, and you’re right here,” he continued after a moment, hoping that it wasn’t obvious what he was doing. “Don’t you have a microscope or something for off-duty use?”

Lance chuckled, sounding breathy due to him still waking up. “Do I seem like that much of a workaholic? So, no, I don’t own a microscope for ‘off-duty use’. I have hobbies outside of work, like a normal person.”

“What if I got you a microscope?” Keith knew he was grasping at straws, but he did think that he had a microscope once, or at least he remembered Pidge having one. He’d have to check storage. “You’re the only one I want working on this.”

“All right, I’ll do it, but- but you need to take down that dumbass article you wrote. I know only a bunch of crackpots read that crap, still I don’t want you looking down on my work.” Lance ‘s voice seemed strained but not from sleep this time. There was a sharp inhale and sob, clear that Lance was crying. “If you knew how hard-”

“Okay,” Keith interrupted. “I’ll take down the article. I’ll even write a correction on the site.” He sighed, feeling like a monster. “I didn’t mean- I didn’t think about who was on the other side of the stuff I posted. I’m- Lance, I really am sorry. Maybe from now on, you can be my source on the inside or something.”

Lance sniffled. “Well, as long as you don’t use my name, mullet head, then that’s fine.” There was another sniffle and a sigh. “So, I guess that means you’re coming over? If you do, we’ve got to make sure we don’t wake my roommates. Since they kind of want you dead.”

“What!?” Keith exclaimed before lowering his voice, as he remembered Shiro was sleeping. He didn’t want to wake him, knowing that he’d have long hours at his security job tomorrow. “Why do they want me dead? They don’t even know me!”

“I may have come home from our failed date more than a little upset,” Lance said, having the decency to sound sheepish at the confession. “But, if you just bring over the samples and the microscope then I can smooth the whole thing out in the morning.”

Keith sighed, the events that happened in the shack still playing on repeat in his head. “Maybe I’ll cook them breakfast or something. I don’t know. Sorry, and thanks for doing this for me. I really owe you one.”

“Just make me some waffles and don’t forget our agreement, and I’ll call us even. Anyway, I’ve got to get dressed if you’re coming over.” There was an embarrassed pause, as if Lance suddenly remembered something. “And- uh, could you bring my shoes? I was so angry, I ran out of the house without them. My roommates were the ones to point out I drove home in my socks.”

When Keith agreed, Lance promised to text him his address, and they said good-bye. Keith hung up his phone feeling better. He crossed his arms over his chest, smiling to himself as he replayed the conversation in his head. That was until he remembered he had to find a microscope somewhere. Keith groaned softly before he pushed off from the cabinet, making his way to the basement door. He prayed that there was one down there, otherwise, he didn’t know what he was going to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who have subscribed and left kudos. It means a lot to me you investing in this fic.
> 
> Anyway, as always, remember to [visit my tumblr](https://katsudonace.tumblr.com/). Thank you again for your support!


End file.
